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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405484">let flesh and soul be knit in light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/joanofarcstan/pseuds/joanofarcstan'>joanofarcstan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:27:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/joanofarcstan/pseuds/joanofarcstan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Findekáno was a good king, or so he hoped. He was ruled by justice, or so he tried to be. Yet heavy was this crown, on head and heart both, and some nights when his footsteps were slow and his heart weighed down and his spirit weary, he longed only to yield. To be ruled by another, to be commanded and cherished and loved.</p><p>('If that is what you need, I have you,' said Maitimo, and let him fall, secure in the knowledge that Maitimo would catch him.)</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <i>Had he begun on his hands and knees and held himself up for as long as he could until sweat dripped from his brow and his arms trembled and gave out; or had he always been like this, face pressed into the pillows that muffled his cries, bound hands outstretched before him in supplication to a master kinder and crueller than any other, back arched and hips raised so he could feel his Maitimo as deep inside him as possible?</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let flesh and soul be knit in light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>0. i wrote this instead of studying for my vectors test, which i took yesterday, or doing my university applications, which are due next week. enjoy!<br/>1. title adapted from a sylvia plath poem, thanks to ArvenaPeredhel for the suggestion!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Findekáno wished that the crown had never come to him.</p><p>Yet so did all who received it on this side of the Sea, and it was not his to question why, but his but to do and die.</p><p>And so he carried the weight of his father’s legacy, his triumphs and failures, upon his own head now in the form of precious metal and gems. Forged in fire and inlaid with ice: fitting was the crown for a high king of the Noldor. One or the other would be his end; as he had endured the Ice, he thought it must be fire. Such thoughts were not proper for a king before his court, Findekáno knew, but they persisted nevertheless.</p><p>(There must be symmetry, if nothing else, on that day of wrath. The Doom had a way of bleeding poetry from the bones of its kings.)</p><p>
  <i>The king is dead; long live the king!</i>
</p><p>How crushing the heavy robes, the jeweled scepter, the signet ring bearing the royal coat of arms were to a soul already burdened with grief and war...</p><p>His only constant, only comfort when he was newly crowned had been Maitimo. Maitimo, who had cradled him as he wept, sung to him when the nightmares tore him from the land of dreams, and sworn fealty to him twice over: as vassal before Hithlum, and as husband before none. Alone in the sanctuary of Findekáno’s bedchamber, Maitimo had knelt then on the stone before the hearth, the firelight catching the red-gold of his hair, and said, 'You are angry, my Findekáno.'</p><p>'And?'</p><p>'And I am yours for the taking.' Maitimo had not raised his eyes from the stone floor, still bowed and submissive beneath his husband, but through their bond Findekáno had felt the reassurance.</p><p>Trust. Love. <i>I know what you need, and I will give it to you.</i></p><p>Oh. <i>Oh</i>, Findekáno had thought, and joined Maitimo on his knees to press their foreheads together in tender communion, and then he had gripped a fistful of Maitimo’s copper hair to drag his head back and bite down on the exposed curve of his throat. Not hard enough to make him bleed, but hard enough to make his skin bloom in petals of indigo against a creamy canvas.</p><p>'You bruise so prettily,' he had murmured, twisting his hand in Maitimo’s hair to watch him tremble. Upon a willing Maitimo he had unleashed his grief that night, until Maitimo screamed himself hoarse, moaned at the dark imprints of Findekáno’s fingers on his wrists, and came at the crimson trails Findekáno raked down his scarred back.</p><p>But that had been when Findekáno was angry and rage lit a fire in his heart, and this night he was tired, bone-weary, and longed only to yield. ‘Let me,’ he begged of his husband, closing his eyes. ‘This crown I wear is heavy, and I would have you command me instead.’</p><p>Maitimo’s left hand came up to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone, and when Findekáno turned his head to kiss the palm, he heard Maitimo’s breath hitch. ‘I fear to hurt you.’</p><p>‘And I trust you.’ Reaching along their bond, Findekáno let his husband feel his exhaustion in the heavy chains of power, as a bird caught in a cage and collapsing against its bars, and his longing to finally <i>submit</i> and let someone else decide for him what he would do and where he would go.</p><p>‘Ai, my Findekáno,’ said Maitimo, though his eyes softened and he brought the stump of his other arm up to cradle Findekáno’s face. I know, I understand. ‘You must tell me if it becomes too much.’ His warning was stern but sincere, and Findekáno kissed his wrist, too.</p><p>‘I will.’</p><p>Then with loving fingers Maitimo tipped his chin up to kiss him, and Findekáno lost time. An eternity or a single moment, he knew not which, the seconds spooling out into threads of glittering gold that raced on and on through time and space, weaving into a sheet, a blanket, a cradle that caught him, swaying in light.</p><p>There was cloth over his eyes, silk over his wrists, and Maitimo over him, mouth hot against his shoulder. Maitimo was rocking into him, devastatingly slowly, agonizingly gently, as a barque on the ocean's waves, forcing him to feel every drag of his husband’s cock against his walls, the heat of their hips pressed flush to each other, sun-hot sand and silk, the soft friction of Maitimo's hand on his weeping cock, just barely touching.</p><p>Had he begun on his hands and knees and held himself up for as long as he could until sweat dripped from his brow and his arms trembled and gave out; or had he always been like this, face pressed into the pillows that muffled his cries, bound hands outstretched before him in supplication to a master kinder and crueller than any other, back arched and hips raised so he could feel his Maitimo as deep inside him as possible?</p><p><i>Always</i>, Findekáno thought dazedly, feeling his body tremble with another slow roll of Maitimo's hips; distantly he remembered Maitimo's words, murmured with a hand pressing down on the small of Findekáno's back, encouraging him to fall, secure in the knowledge that Maitimo would catch him: <i>I will have you, </i>arimelda; <i>all you have to do is </i>take it.</p><p>He needed, he wanted, he <i>keened</i> when Maitimo shifted inside him, moaned as his husband chuckled, low and warm and dark, behind the sensitive shell of his ear, <i>whimpered</i> as teeth grazed the bruise blooming at the juncture of shoulder and neck. The blindfold was damp, but whether it was with sweat or tears Findekáno could not say. He was Maitimo's, wholly, to admire and toy with and pleasure till the brink of exhaustion and beyond; he was there only to take what Maitimo saw fit to give him, but <i>oh</i>, how he <i>needed</i>.</p><p>'<i>No</i>,' growled Maitimo in his ear when he tried to chase his own pleasure, bucking into his husband's hand. A strong arm encircled his waist in an iron clasp, lifting his upper body to pin him against Maitimo's broad chest; the hand left his cock to tangle in his hair, forcing his head back to expose his throat to the hot, hungry mouth that would lay on him the marks of Maitimo's property. 'You take only what I give to you.'</p><p>'Please—<i>please</i>,' Findekáno whispered, though he could not have said for what he begged, and his voice broke when Maitimo rocked unerringly against the place that made their bond blaze white-hot, spooling out in threads of starlight and rose-gold, until Findekáno was not sure whose teeth dug into an arched, exposed throat, whose fingers pressed their imprint into the sharp curve of a hip, who took and who gave and who mastered and who was mastered. Yet he would know Maitimo in life and in death, in sun and in shadow, now and at the end of the world.</p><p>Let the universe play its games; let fate show her hand. In this moment where he and Maitimo were perfectly joined in body and in spirit, they were untouchable. Invincible.</p><p>Findekáno quaked.</p><p>'Still, <i>arimelda</i>,' came the soft, low command, and Findekáno's breath shuddered in his chest as he struggled to obey, nearly sobbing when another well-aimed thrust had him clenching desperately around his husband's cock. Yet Maitimo was kind, stroking Findekáno's side as one soothes a frightened horse, and at last Findekáno brought himself to stillness.</p><p>'Good,' Maitimo praised, dark and velvety, letting his hand fall back between Findekáno's legs and smiling against Findekáno's throat with just the slightest hint of sharpness when he moaned through gritted teeth, forcing himself to remain still. Maitimo sped up his thrusts, still agonizingly tender, and this time he did not slow down.</p><p>'<i>Please</i>.' Findekáno knew what sort of pretty picture he must have made: hard and dripping at the lightest touch of Maitimo's hand, keening with every movement of Maitimo inside him, head thrown back in wanton display of Maitimo's claim.</p><p>Tracing the tip of Findekáno’s ear with his tongue, Maitimo hummed, then chuckled when Findekáno writhed helplessly beneath his three-fold assault of mouth and voice and cock. ‘Please what, <i>melindo</i>?’ Maitimo murmured, sliding his hand up and down Findekáno’s cock in a slow, torturous mockery of a rhythm. ‘Tell me what you need.’</p><p>‘Please, I need—’ and then Maitimo picked up the pace again, and Findekáno knew not for what he begged nor even what he said, only that he <i>needed</i>, and Maitimo was the only one who could give it to him. ‘Russandol, <i>please</i>—’</p><p>But Maitimo only huffed out a soft laugh into his neck. ‘<i>Tell me.</i>’</p><p>
  <i>Tell me.</i>
</p><p>Findekáno could not. He had not the words for it. But he needed, he yearned, he <i>yielded</i>—</p><p>The bond sparked, flared, <i>blazed</i> between them again, blossoming into an intricate constellation of tiny points of light. Trust, passion, <i>love</i>. Not even Varda’s night sky could compare, thought Findekáno reverently, gazing upon that moment dusted in crystalline gold. Maitimo had him, Maitimo held him, Maitimo would let him fall and fall and fall and always catch him at the bottom. There could be no grief in this perfect union, nor chasm separating them; all that had been, all that was, and all that ever would be was light and light and light forever.</p><p>His own cries were distant now, Findekáno realized, their sound and substance as immaterial as a teardrop in the ocean. A strong arm clasped him tight to Maitimo’s chest; his body shook from the force of Maitimo’s thrusts. Sparks scattered before his eyes as light into a rainbow, and he keened softly, a litany of pleas falling from his lips as raindrops into the sea.</p><p><i>Yes, Findekáno.</i> Arimelda.<i> I know what you need, and I will give it to you.</i></p><p>All lost and all won in this dance, thought Findekáno, knowing only the heat of Maitimo at his back, the light burning between them with every thrust that had Maitimo slamming into his body hard enough to force the air from his lungs. His were the teeth breaking blood vessels beneath soft skin; his was the skin being abused and worshipped. He felt the thickness of Maitimo inside him; he felt the hot, slick tightness of his own passage around his cock. He was the master and he was the mastered; he was the captive and he was the cherished.</p><p>With Maitimo’s teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder, with Maitimo’s cock buried deep inside him, Findekáno came, his world shattering into pure light. He felt Maitimo’s cock pulse inside him, moaned softly at the flood of heat, blushed when Maitimo pulled out of him, letting hot seed trickle down his thighs. The blindfold was removed, the ropes undone (<i>tender kisses pressed to sore wrists</i>), and Findekáno felt himself being manhandled to lay down on the bed, his head pillowed on Maitimo’s chest. He could hear the steady, soothing beat of Maitimo's heart in his ear..</p><p>At the sleepy, contented noise Findekáno made, curling into his husband’s side, Maitimo dropped a kiss on the top of his head, stroked his hair, laughing softly when he purred. ‘Rest, <i>arimelda</i>,’ he murmured, then let his voice drop, just husky enough to make Findekáno shiver. ‘And then I want to have you again, in the bath.’</p><p>Through the bond shone an image of himself seated on Maitimo’s lap, Maitimo’s hand on his hips, tenderly encouraging him to rise and bringing him down for another slow press. The water rippled around them, lapped at their entwined bodies, slow and steady and sweet as Maitimo’s desire.</p><p>‘Exquisite, no?’ rumbled Maitimo in his ear, a possessive hand curled around Findekáno’s hip, fingertips pressing into the jut of bone and swirl of bruise.</p><p>Findekáno trembled, too wrung out to even moan. <i>You’ll be the death of me.</i></p><p>He felt more than heard the vibration of Maitimo’s laugh. ‘I think you love it, sweet one.’</p><p>And oh, hours later in the bath with his face buried in Maitimo’s neck, new bruises blooming on his throat and collarbone and thighs as deep indigo flowers in rich earth, tracing his fingers over skin of liquid gold and scars of rose-pearl, Findekáno had to acknowledge that his husband had spoken true.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>2. if i write another part with fingon topping maedhros, then the silm discord is to blame :D<br/>3. i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! drop a comment and i'll cherish you in my heart &lt;3</p><p>(you can find me on tumblr @<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fingolfino">fingolfino</a>!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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